#anyway JACK he's such an important character in this he's the guy from the beanstalk and he's done other shit too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

clumsyclifford · 3 years

Note

hello bella’s ask box it’s been a min damn.

so the vibes are fucking everywhere w the music in the lab today so i’ve mostly been ignoring it but then unforgettable by thomas rhett started playing and my brain was immediately like This Is a Fic Song

more importantly it is a Bella Fic Song

last time you not so subtly wanted me to prompt u w w thomas rhett song you told me to do that here so i am back again w another song from ur boy

okay i def snuck out just to send this so i gotta go now but this felt important laksdjdld

ok ily bye 💛

hi sam :)

so.................... i was stuck on what to write you for your birthday fic. you sent me this ask prompting me with a thomas rhett song that i had literally been meaning to write a fic based on for almost a full year. the puzzle pieces just aligned REALLY nicely on this one.

happy birthday, my love. there's gonna be a LOT more sappy shit in the ao3 notes, but please know that my life is irreversibly changed for the better because i met you. i am dangerous close to sounding like glinda from wicked and i really want you to get to READ this fic so please see ao3 for more schmaltz. i love you so much.

tw for alcohol

read here on ao3

Every life has a moment that imprints on memory like ink on a fresh page. The kind of moment that permanently alters the trajectory of that life, that marks the ending of one chapter and the beginning of another. Some people are lucky enough to have more than one. Some people’s minds are laden with crystallized memories. But there’s always at least one. One completely unforgettable moment.

For Jack, this moment happens twenty-four minutes after he enters the club.

Twenty-three minutes after he enters the club, Zack returns with his and Jack's second beers and says, "There's some guy at the bar who's totally your type."

"Yeah?" Jack cranes his neck, but he can't quite see the bar from where he is. "My type how? Not just 'lonely and drunk,' right? My standards have gotten higher, you know."

Zack hands Jack his beer. "He's cute and he's wearing a One Direction shirt, and I'm pretty sure he's drinking a margarita.”

"Oh shit," Jack says. "That checks all my boxes."

"I know it does," says Zack, winner of the Wingman Of The Decade award. He claps Jack on the shoulder. Jack sidesteps people until he gets eyes on the bar and scans for a cute guy in a One Direction shirt drinking a margarita.

Twenty-four minutes after Jack enters the bar, he sees Alex.

And everything changes forever.

"Woah," Jack says. His gut is feeling weird and it’s probably unrelated to the beer and a half under his belt.

"What?"

"The guy at the bar," Jack says, grabbing Zack's arm. "Zack. You grossly undersold my future husband to me."

"Your future husband?" Zack sounds amused, but Jack isn't kidding.

"Remember this moment," he says seriously, giving Zack a sloppy pat on the bicep before moving away from him, towards the bar, towards the cute guy with the One Direction shirt who's making Jack understand clairvoyance. "Remember this so you can tell the story at our wedding!"

"Your wedding," Zack repeats.

"Our fucking wedding!" Jack insists, more loudly as space and drunk people fill the growing gap between him and Zack. Zack just gives him a good-luck-and-godspeed wave.

Seconds later, Jack is at the bar.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

The cute guy in question looks up, surprised. Jack practically reels. It's a miracle people aren't flocking to this guy; he's not just cute, he's gorgeous. Bleach-blond hair — clearly from a bottle, which somehow Jack finds more attractive — flops over his forehead in a stubborn commitment to the emo fringe that died out a decade ago, and long lashes frame brown eyes that rival the glossy chestnut color of the bar. Add the five o'clock shadow and the sharply angled jaw and Jack's speechless.

Fortunately it's not his turn to speak. "I have a drink," says the guy, who is rapidly progressing from Cute Guy At Bar to Possible Soulmate At Bar. He quirks a smile. Jack's done for. "I'll buy you a drink, though."

Jack sets his partially-drunk beer on the bar top and slides it as far as he can reach. "Okay," he says.

Possible Soulmate laughs. He slides his margarita away from him, too, pushing it into the space of another person sitting down the bar. "Touché. Okay, you can buy me a drink."

"Well, hey, I don't want you to waste yours," Jack says reasonably. He retrieves his beer and then Possible Soulmate's drink. "I'll get the next one."

Possible Soulmate smiles. Jack is going to need his name eventually. "I appreciate your commitment to environmentally-friendly consumption of alcohol."

Jack blinks. "Yeah," he says. "That was a lot of big words, but sure. No problem. I'm Jack, by the way."

"Alex." Alex. Jack can see the wedding invites now.

"Nice to meet you," Jack says. "I like your shirt."

Alex glances down out of instinct as the wide collar of the shirt slips over his shoulder. "Thanks," he says with a chuckle, and looks up at Jack. "I like yours."

With great effort, Jack tears his gaze from Alex's shoulder and the hint of collarbone peeking out, but he would like it on the record that it is tremendously difficult. Fortunately he already knows what shirt he's wearing because he'd agonized over it for several minutes longer than Zack's patience ran, shortly before going out.

"Yeah, Kurt Cobain," he says, nodding with probably too much enthusiasm. "I'm a lead singer guy."

"Really?" Alex tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. "Meaning what?"

"I go for the lead singer types," Jack explains. "Kurt Cobain, Billie Joe Armstrong, you know." He nods at Alex's shirt. "Harry Styles."

"Harry Styles wasn't—" Alex breaks off and snorts. "Eh, whatever. Who cares."

"Wait," Jack says. "Hold the phone. Did you fucking cross out Zayn's face?"

Alex looks down at his shirt again like maybe he'll have forgotten what it looks like. "Oh, my friend did that. But now the shirt is factually accurate."

"If you wanted an accurate shirt you'd have to cross them all out since none of them are in the band anymore," Jack observes.

Alex slowly smiles. "I guess."

"I always liked Zayn," Jack says wistfully. "His solo shit is so good, though."

"It's good," Alex says, kind of in the tone of voice of someone who doesn't really agree but doesn't want to get into it, so Jack leaves it be. They can poll their wedding guests. "I'm really digging Niall's solo shit."

"That's an extremely acceptable answer," Jack says, nodding vigorously. In the moment it slips his mind that he's holding a beer and the liquid begins to slosh out of its container. "Oh shit, fuck, sorry."

"Didn't get me," Alex says, passing Jack a napkin. "Couple too many, I get it."

"What?" Jack is very focused on drying his hands so they don't get sticky and gross. "I'm not drunk."

Alex laughs. "Yeah, right."

"I'm not!"

"Okay," Alex says lightly, but it's clear he doesn't believe Jack. On the bright side, he doesn't seem bothered by it.

"I am acceptably drunk for a guy in his mid-twenties at a club,” Jack amends. "And you owe me a drink anyway."

"Hey, I intend to buy you that drink," Alex says earnestly. "Another beer?"

Jack shakes his head. "Vodka soda," he says. "It's a special occasion."

"Really! You celebrating something?"

"I am now," Jack says. "Celebrating meeting my future husband."

"Your future husband?"

"You," Jack says, in case it wasn't clear. "It's not every day you meet the man you're gonna marry. I think it calls for a celebratory vodka soda."

Alex stares, obviously expecting Jack to say sike! When Jack does no such thing, he gives a small, incredulous laugh.

"Fair enough," he says. He sounds like he's humoring Jack. That's okay. Jack is serious, but Alex will figure that out on his own time. "I guess you're not wrong. That doesn't happen every day."

A large shadow materializes on Alex's other side, blocking light like some very cliché movie villain. It's not Doc Ock, but it is some tall, burly guy, a leer affixed to his face that's probably been there since Alex's haircut went out of style.

"Hey, baby," he says in an unnervingly deep voice. The part of Jack that isn't super skeezed out is a little jealous. But Burly Guy isn't talking to Jack; Jack may as well be invisible. To Alex, Burly Guy says, "Saw you across the bar and I just had to come over."

Didn't have to, Jack thinks grumpily to himself. You could have stayed across the bar. If you walk away now we’ll pretend we never saw you.

"Can I get you a drink?" Burly Guy asks, and honestly, Jack has no idea what Alex is going to say.

Big Burly Guy with a deep voice a la Morgan Freeman vs. resident beanstalk Jack whose voice sounds like a rejected cartoon character design. What a tough choice.

Jack is just preparing to cut his losses when Alex grabs Jack's wrist, turns to him, and says, "Honey? What do you think?"

Jack's tipsy, but Alex is definitely communicating something with his eyes, and between that and the pet name Jack is pretty sure he's on the same page.

"You want to buy my boyfriend a drink?" Jack asks Big Burly Guy, cranking up the Bitchy energy because he doesn't get to do it a lot and it's kinda fun. His voice has definitely gone vaguely southern-auntie, but he's rolling with it. "Sorry, sugar, this seat's taken. Must be this guy" — he points at himself — "to ride."

"This guy?" Burly Guy echoes, furrowing his eyebrows at Jack and then looking at Alex with profound confusion, like he just doesn't get it. "You're with this guy?"

"Happily," Alex says, glancing back at Jack, who offers him what is definitely a convincingly enamored smile because Jack is legitimately enamored. Alex laces their fingers together and Jack's not delusional, can't be, not when they fit this well together. No way. "So I'm gonna pass on that drink. Sorry, man. No hard feelings."

Burly Guy seems to have some hard feelings. Maybe he didn't get the memo. "Whatever," he says gruffly. "Your loss."

Jack can't resist countering, "Actually it's your loss, sweetums," as Burly Guy retreats. If he dies tonight, he knows who’s responsible.

As soon as he's gone, Alex breaks down laughing, and Jack quickly follows suit. Alex's hand slips from Jack's and begins to tug at the ends of his own hair instead.

"Sugar?"

"I don't know what happened," Jack says/wheezes. "I became possessed by Blanche from Golden Girls.”

"You have to be" — Alex prods Jack's chest — "this guy to ride." He dissolves into giggles and Jack is laughing too but mostly because Alex's laugh is incredibly contagious.

"Look, I don't blame him," Jack says, feeling exhilarated. "You are the best-looking guy in this establishment. He just happened to have creepo vibes."

"I am not the best-looking guy in this establishment," Alex says, grinning at Jack. "Nice of you to say, though."

"Hey, I'm serious!"

"I thought you were Jack."

Jack stares at Alex and Alex doesn't even last a second before he's breaking down laughing yet again.

I'm going to marry you, Jack thinks, and it almost scares him how serious he is about that. He opens his mouth and says, "That wasn't even— that's not even one of the good dad jokes! That's the most boring one!"

"There is no such thing as a boring dad joke."

"You should go into stand-up," Jack says dryly. "You'd tear down the house with this set. I can see it now." He waves a grandiose hand in the air as if painting the marquee into existence, but when he goes to introduce the act he realizes he's missing most of the crucial information. "Alex…something…something. Austin, Texas, one night only."

"Gaskarth," Alex says. "That's my last name."

"Alex Something Gaskarth," Jack loyally amends, and gives Alex a look like, well?

Except Alex is giving Jack that same look. "I only know your first name and you expect me to tell you my full one?"

"Jack Bassam Barakat," Jack says, gesturing impatiently. "Come on, I'm trying to introduce your act here."

"Guess," Alex says.

"Guess?"

"It's a pretty basic middle name," Alex says. "I'll buy you your vodka soda when you guess it."

"Alex," Jack says. "I am not going to guess your middle name. I am so bad at these games and I'm fucking drunk."

"Quitter," Alex says. "Do you want your drink?"

Jack scowls, trying to channel Blanche again, but Alex is apparently immune.

"Give me a hint," he finally concedes.

"It's a British name," Alex says. “Pretty standard British.”

"Are you British?”

Alex nods. "Born and raised. Moved here when I was about…eight? But I'm not an American citizen. I have a green card."

Yet another reason they should be married. Jack could extend his citizenship to Alex. Plus he'd gain British citizenship, which would probably be useful for, like, travel or One Direction stalking or whatever.

"That's sick," Jack says. "I was born in Lebanon. We moved when I was a baby."

"That's so cool," Alex says, sounding genuinely interested. He props his chin on his hand and gives Jack a cheeky smile. "Now guess."

Jack sighs. "Uh, Charles."

"No."

"Darcy."

"Darcy?"

"Margaret."

"Jack."

"You said it's a British name!"

"A British man's name," Alex says, rolling his eyes in fond exasperation.

Jack takes a long pull from his beer, swallows, and says, "Harry."

"No."

They're going to be here awhile. Jack pulls out the seat next to Alex and settles in while he racks his brain for British names.

“Alfred.”

“Nope.”

“John.”

“No.”

“Paul.”

“No.”

“George.” Alex shakes his head. “Ringo.”

“Yup, you finally got it,” Alex says. Jack is over the moon for a split second before it sinks in that Alex is fucking with him. “Alex Ringo Gaskarth. Well done.”

“Fuck off, I’m doing my best here,” Jack says.

“You’re missing one incredibly obvious name,” Alex says. “It’s not that hard.”

“For you,” Jack says. “Because you already know it.” Alex is grinning. Jack likes that he’s enjoying himself. It makes this guessing game fun. Under any other circumstances, this guessing game would not be fun, but Alex makes it fun.

Alex has also finished his mango margarita by now, and Jack’s beer is long since empty. He’s itching for another drink, mainly for something to do with his hands.

As if reading his mind, Alex flags down the bartender, who sidles up with a small smile and says, “What can I get you boys?”

Jack blinks at her. Mostly at her accent, which is not American.

“Vodka soda,” Alex says. To Jack, “I think you’ve earned it.” Jack smiles.

“And a mango margarita,” he puts in to the bartender, “and are you British?”

The bartender looks amused. “I am British,” she says.

“Please help me,” Jack says. “Alex says his middle name is a British name and I cannot for the life of me figure out what it fucking is.”

“Jack, the nice bartender lady has other things to do,” Alex says with a laugh. The nice bartender lady probably does have other things to do, but she shifts her weight and gives Alex an appraising look instead.

“Harry?”

“Tried that,” Jack says, realizing at once that this is a pointless endeavor. The nice bartender lady is going to guess everything Jack’s already guessed and he’ll just have wasted her time. “I’ve tried every member of One Direction, every member of the Beatles, every member of Oasis, every Harry Potter character, every member of the Royal Family—”

At this, Alex coughs conspicuously.

Jack rounds on him. “I have.”

“Edward,” the bartender offers. Alex’s lips are pressed together in a smile and he shakes his head. “Meghan. Kate. Richard. Dick. Philip.”

A lightbulb goes off as the bartender is listing Royal Family names. Jack wants to kick himself. “Oh my— William?”

“Yeahhhh, there you go! See, it was easy,” Alex says, grinning widely.

“William,” the bartender repeats with a charming little laugh. Her lipstick is bright with clean lines, an impressive feat considering Jack has seen her bustling around this bar for almost an hour now. “I had an ex called William.”

“Oh no,” Alex says. “I hope he didn’t ruin the name for you.”

“Please,” the bartender says, waving him off. “The only thing he ruined for me was a few meters of drywall.” Jack and Alex must have twin looks of concern, because she explains, “Anger issues. No worries, boys, I sent him packing, and a vodka soda for you, and a mango marg for you.”

She slides their drinks into waiting hands and starts to turn away. “Wait a sec,” Jack says.

The bartender turns back to him with wide Bambi eyes. “Did I fuck up the drink? I’ve made it a million—”

“No no no,” Jack assures her. “I just wanted to know your name. You rescued me from an eternal guessing game, you’re my hero.”

The bartender smiles and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Maisie,” she says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, Maisie,” Alex says. “Thank you for the alcohol.”

Maisie laughs again as she moves to the other side of the bar.

“William,” Jack says, swirling his drink with the miniature straw. “God damn. I can’t believe I missed William.”

“You got close,” Alex says. “You guessed Liam twice. And thanks for the drink.”

“Same to you,” Jack says. “It’s a good drink. Yours, I mean. You know what offends me, though? Why aren’t mango margaritas orange?”

Alex furrows his brow. “Why the fuck would they be orange?”

“Mangos are orange! Fruity drinks should be the same color as their fruit.”

“Mangos are not fucking orange,” Alex says with an incredulous laugh. “They’re straight-up yellow.”

“They’re orange with yellow tendencies,” Jack says, “but mostly orange.”

“They are entirely yellow,” Alex says. “Coldplay even wrote a song about them. They were all yellow.”

“They’re orange,” Jack insists, but now Alex has moved on completely and is loudly singing Coldplay.

“I came along! I wrote a song foooor youuuuu! And all the things you do!”

“You’re ignoring the truth!”

“And it was called ‘Yellow’!” Alex shouts.

“Okay, I surrender! Sheesh. You win.”

“Thank you,” Alex says placidly, like he hasn’t just been yelling obnoxiously over the (worse, but much louder) club music. “I’m going to enjoy my yellow mango marg very much.”

“And I will enjoy my victory drink,” Jack says, lifting his glass. Alex lifts his. It smells like mango and tequila. They clink the rims together. “To William.”

“To William,” Alex agrees, laughing.

The DJ plays a song Jack loves to hate from hearing it on the radio so many times and Alex is out of his seat before Jack’s managed to put down his drink.

“What are—”

“I love this song, I want to dance,” Alex insists. The implication is clearly that he wants Jack to dance with him, which is like. What is Jack gonna do, say no?

Alex must anticipate some kind of argument, though, because with a glint in his eye he adds lightly, “These are the kinds of things you’ll have to do if we’re married.”

On the one hand, he’s clearly making fun. But on the other hand, the fact that Alex was a stranger an hour ago and is still comfortable teasing Jack about suggesting they’re going to get married speaks volumes. Alex is smiling. They’ve known each other for less than an hour — a drink and a half each — and Alex is smiling at his own joke about marrying Jack. Like he likes that Jack said it first. Like he likes Jack.

“Just wait ‘til you learn all the weird shit you’ll have to do when we’re married,” Jack says, sliding out of his stool.

Any sane person would have run away by now. Even Jack knows when he’s coming on too strong.

But Alex does the opposite; Alex grabs his wrist and pulls him towards the dance floor.

“Fair warning,” Alex says. “I don’t actually know how to dance.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Jack says, and then eats his words not two seconds later when Alex demonstrates how very much he doesn’t know how to dance. All of his limbs seem to move as their own entities, zero synchronization. A couple surrounding people take various minor assaults before taking the hint and giving Alex some space, but this does not stop him. “Okay,” Jack says loudly over the music. “You were right. But luckily neither do I.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Alex says.

Jack does the sprinkler. Alex snorts. He does the wave, very poorly, and Alex continues it, also very poorly.

“Mr. Moves,” Alex says. “I’m impressed.”

“Yeah? Check this one out.” Jack does the running man with extreme focus. Alex laughs, leaning towards Jack as he does. Jack stops dancing so he doesn’t accidentally hit Alex, who is suddenly much closer and who somehow smells like pine and flannel and fall and winter in one and is the best-looking person in blue jeans and checkered Vans on this dance floor. Far from the only person, but without question the prettiest.

Fuck.

“I don’t think I can do that one,” says Alex, grinning. Jack nods at him like, try it, so Alex does, proving himself right. He almost takes Jack’s eye out.

“Yeesh, okay, you’re— alright, take it easy,” Jack says, swatting Alex’s wayward hand away and laughing. “Well, we all have our strengths.”

Surrendering the running man, Alex starts up with some bizarre hand-wavey foot-kicky thing, singing along to the music.

“Do you seriously like this song?” Jack asks, attempting to imitate Alex’s dance. “Dance,” heavy quote marks implied.

Alex shoots Jack a look. “Hell yeah. What, you don’t?”

“It’s just…always on,” Jack says. “Everywhere. How are you not sick of it?”

“Because it fuckin’ slaps!” Alex looks incensed.

“I don’t know why I’m surprised you’re a pop music person when you’re literally in a One Direction shirt.”

“I’m a lots of music person,” Alex counters. “Including pop music, yeah. You don’t like pop music?”

“I sometimes do,” Jack says. “I like Taylor Swift. Britney Spears.”

“Okay, well, you’d have to be insane not to like them.”

“Yeah, and I’m obviously sane.”

Alex barks a laugh. “Drunk but sane.”

“I am not drunk!” That’s probably a lie by now.

“You’re not convincing me otherwise,” Alex says. “I’m confident you’ve been drunk this whole time.”

“You haven’t exactly been an innocent bystander,” Jack says. “You bought me a drink, and you’re gonna buy us shots in a minute.”

“I did— I what?”

“Yeah,” Jack says, and this time he drags Alex off the dance floor, back to the bar. “I can see the future, I forgot to tell you.”

“You—” Alex laughs again and leans on the bar, trapping both his elbows between his stomach and the bartop. “You’re buying the next round.”

“Oh, happily,” Jack says. “I’m actively trying to get you drunk.”

“Why’s that?”

“Studies show I am 75% more attractive to people when they’re drunk,” says Jack.

Alex turns to him. Without missing a beat, he says smoothly, “I don’t think it’s possible for you to get any more attractive.”

Fuck. Actually, fuck. Seriously. Fuck.

“You must be drunk already, then,” Jack says.

Alex smiles serenely. “I feel pretty sober.”

“Exactly what a drunk person would say,” Jack says. “J’accuse, William.”

Alex laughs. “In that case, your studies are right.”

Jack’s probably blushing. He does that in extreme cases only, but this is nothing if not an extreme case. Alex is fucking relentless.

Maisie the bartender is back, and Alex orders them shots of tequila. Somewhere in the recesses of Jack’s mind, this unlocks a memory, and he snaps his fingers. “I should hunt down my friend, he loves tequila.”

“Friend?” Alex looks around while Maisie pours their shots. “You ditched your friend?”

“He told me to,” Jack says. “He’s probably gonna pick up some girl. Actually, he probably already has.”

“Really,” Alex says, sounding amused.

“Zack’s a strong silent type,” Jack explains. “Emphasis on strong. We’re single guys in our mid-twenties, Alex. We’re not going to clubs for the atmosphere.”

“Admit it,” Alex says. “You a little bit are.”

Jack bites his lip. “Fine, I like the atmosphere,” he admits, more affected than he should be that Alex seems to have picked up on this about him. “And the alcohol. And the chances I’ll meet my future husband, which clearly paid off. Zack will never admit it, but I’m pretty sure he likes trying to set me up with random people in clubs.”

Alex laughs. “He set you up with me?”

“Oh yeah,” Jack says. “He wingmanned me hard. You can thank him in your vows.”

This only serves to make Alex laugh harder. “I’ll thank him now,” he says with a grin. Taking his cue, Jack grabs his shot glass. Alex does the same. “To Zack.”

“To Zack!” Jack cheers, and they both down their shots.

“Me?”

Jack whirls around and trips straight into Zack. “Zack!” he says brightly. “We toasted you.”

“I heard,” Zack says. “Why, exactly?”

“I’m Alex,” says Alex, holding out a hand. Zack shakes it. “Apparently you set us up?”

“Oh,” Zack says. “I wouldn’t really say that. I just kind of pointed Jack in this direction. If you can put up with him, that’s all you.”

“I was gonna come find you anyway,” Jack says. “We’re doing tequila shots. Next round on me.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Zack says. “Count me in.”

They can’t come up with a toast for their second round so they just knock it back with an ambiguous cheer; then Zack offers to buy another, and Jack’s not about to refuse. It’s starting to hit just right, so he’s buzzed but not incoherent. All his most brilliant ideas come in this state.

Case in point: as Maisie is pouring them their third round, Jack suddenly says, “Maisie! Do a shot with us!”

Maisie looks up and laughs. “I’m not supposed to drink on the job,” she says.

“It’s not drinking, it’s bonding,” Jack insists.

“Yeah, we’re forming lasting friendships,” Alex jumps in.

Zack looks entertained. “You guys know each other?”

“As of half an hour ago, yes,” Maisie says.

“Maisie here helped me guess Alex’s middle name,” Jack explains. “Which is William. Like the prince.”

“I feel like I missed so much,” Zack says, half to himself. He shrugs and nods at Maisie. “One shot. On me. For Jack. We won’t tell.”

Maybe it’s because Zack is buff and has cool tattoos or just has good vibes or whatever, but Maisie hesitates only a second before inclining her head. “Just one, and no blabbing,” she says, meeting all of their eyes in turn. Everyone nods solemnly, and Maisie discreetly pours herself a fourth shot.

“Hell yes!” Jack whoops as they all take a shot glass. “To Maisie!”

“To Maisie!” Everyone echoes, including Maisie with a wry grin.

The third shot goes down smoother than the first two. Jack swallows his easily, as does Alex. Maisie puckers her face a bit. Zack has zero reaction, because Zack’s just kinda like that.

“While I’m here, I was hoping to get another beer,” Zack says.

“On it,” Maisie says immediately, giggling. “Thanks for the shot, boys. You’ve kept me far more entertained tonight than my usual shift provides.”

“You can give a toast at our wedding,” Jack says to her. Zack’s eyes widen a little, Alex snorts, and Maisie laughs.

“I’d be honored,” she says. “Back to work now. You need anything, let me know.”

“Seriously, Jack?”

“What?” Jack gives Zack an innocent smile. He pats Zack on the cheek. “Don’t worry, sugar, you can give a toast too.”

Alex laughs. Zack stares at him and shakes his head. “You’re insane,” he says, but he says that roughly twice a day so he’s still below his quota. “I’ll leave you two alone. Come find me when you wanna go. If…” He eyes Alex. “...Just…yeah.”

And with these eloquent words, he disappears with his beer into the crowd.

“I like him,” Alex announces.

“Me too,” Jack says. He turns back to Alex. “Back to the dance floor?”

“Get out of my brain,” Alex says. “I’d like to see your drunken running man.”

“It is gonna blow your fucking mind,” Jack promises, and Alex laughs again.

They’re not even being gross like everyone else. Alex has pulled Jack into an exaggerated tango performed mostly with missteps when it happens: someone shoves them aside as they walk past, and Alex loses his balance and falls into Jack, who just barely manages to catch them both. He doesn’t manage to stop his arm from winding around Alex’s waist. To be fair, he doesn’t try very hard.

Jack’s first thought is homophobe, but then he spots the offender, lumbering off with heavy footfalls, and it’s Burly Guy from earlier. The guy who tried and failed to pick Alex up.

All of this registers as Alex slowly regains his footing. “Damn, who pissed in that dude’s Cheerios?”

“It’s the guy from before who tried to buy you a drink,” Jack says, pointing at his back.

Alex whips his head around. “Seriously? Asshole.”

Jack chooses not to observe that from his vantage point, being shoved close together is hardly a dick move. In intent, sure, but not in actuality; Jack’s enjoying the proximity a great deal. Like, a lot.

Like, his hand is still on Alex’s hip, subtly keeping Alex close, and Alex has his arm around Jack’s shoulders from their dance and he’s not moving, either.

“Yeah,” Jack says. They’d already been on the outskirts and now they’re off to the side of everyone, wallflowers.

Alex breathes a laugh and looks back at Jack. He doesn’t step back or even lean away, even though their faces are too close to be friendly now. Jack hadn’t really been expecting friendly, but they’ve been tightrope-walking between sides, and if neither of them breaks this up then they’ll be irreversibly left on one end.

Jack has no intention of moving away. He likes this end of the tightrope. For all he cares, they could cut the tightrope and free-fall together.

“You’re pretty good at bad tango-ing,” Alex says, reaching up to brush away the sweaty fringe that’s clinging to his forehead.

Jack grins. “Well, you know what they say. It takes two.”

Alex kisses him so suddenly that Jack almost loses his balance.

He tastes like tequila. That’s all Jack gets before they’re not kissing anymore. The room feels quiet and then unforgivably loud the next second, and Alex is flushed and smiling nervously, and Jack is smiling too, not nervous at all.

“Did I tell you I’m in a band?” Alex asks in a rush.

Jack’s brain struggles to keep up. He can’t remember Alex mentioning a band, but he’s also distracted by wanting to kiss Alex again. There’s no understating the power of wanting to kiss someone over failing to clock anything they say. “What?”

“I’m in a band,” Alex says. “Not as a job, just like, for fun.”

“Oh,” says Jack.

“I’m the lead singer,” Alex says, with a flickering look down at Jack’s shirt.

“Oh,” says Jack, because, like, oh. “Can I kiss you again?”

“What, here?” Alex meets his eyes. “With all these people around?”

“You kissed me first,” Jack says. “Let me kiss you and then we can call it even.”

“Okay,” Alex says, and Jack’s kissing him before the word’s really out of his mouth.

And he tastes like tequila and mango and sugar and the color yellow and the sweat of the dance floor and God, it’s good. It’s like kissing a memory, except this memory is still here, not frozen in time, not trapped in an ornate frame. He’s creating a memory that he knows he’ll relive for the rest of his life.

Somehow, though he doesn’t know the end of this chapter, he knows the end of the book.

Alex’s warm palm cradling Jack’s cheek to hold him steady, fingers splayed out like a star; Alex’s other hand grazing skin over the collar of Jack’s shirt. Alex singing Coldplay in Jack’s ear. Alex’s blue jeans and his checkered Vans and his ridiculous One Direction tank top. Alex holding Jack’s hand and calling him honey to get Burly Guy to leave him alone. Grinning as he shoots down guess after guess for the elusive middle name. Laughing at Jack’s stupid dance moves. Knocking back a shot like it’s nothing. Smiling when Jack says they’re going to get married, never moving away, only ever closer.

Alex sitting undisturbed at the bar, ankles crossed, and Jack seeing him from across the room like something out of a goddamn Hallmark movie and just knowing.

He tugs Alex closer but Alex is already pulling away with a smile. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Yeah,” Jack says. He smoothes a hand over a crease in Alex’s shirt and nods. “Taxi’s on me if we go back to your place.”

“Sucker, I was gonna suggest that anyway,” Alex says with a quiet laugh. “You should tell Zack. Don’t wanna just leave him.”

“Don’t worry,” Jack says. “He knows.”

“He knows?”

“Zack and I are brothers in clairvoyance,” Jack says. “How many times do I have to tell you this?”

“I knew you could see the future,” Alex says. “You never told me Zack could, too.”

“Zack can see everyone’s future,” says Jack. “I can only see mine.”

“Yeah? What’s your future look like now?”

Jack filters out several inappropriate comments. It’s hard when Alex is smirking, clearly baiting him. “I told you,” he says. “You, me, vows, rings, the works.”

“Not that future,” Alex says. “I’m talking about the immediate one.”

It takes everything in Jack not to get down on one knee and say so was I. There’s a tilt in Alex’s head, like a dog listening carefully for a familiar sound.

“Honestly?” Jack says, and Alex nods. “I think it’s more fun if we find out together.”

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theonceoverthinker · 6 years

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OUAT 2X06 - Tallahassee

Who’s ready for a vacay?! I’m thinking Florida!

...I was kind of hoping for Disney, but *shrugs* whatever.

Anyway, under the cut for my thoughts on this OUAT vacation.

Press Release With the hopes of finding a magical compass that could help her and Mary Margaret get back to Storybrooke, Emma takes a journey with a not-too-trustworthy Captain Hook up a treacherous beanstalk in an attempt to steal the item from a murderous giant. Meanwhile, Emma’s past is revealed to be anything but magical when she meets up with a fellow thief who wants to make an honest woman out of her. General Thoughts - Characters/Stories/Themes and Their Effectiveness Past This was a really well put together segment! What makes it work for me is the care they brought to Neal while constructing his backstory in regards to Emma. It’s actually been a while since I’ve watched an episode with Neal in it, and I forgot about a lot of his charm and dedication. At the same time, the episode doesn’t make Neal perfect at any point, showing him be a thief and getting angry, exasperated, and even a little stupid. That stuff makes the betrayal of Emma’s trust, for as saddening as it is, feel like something that could feasibly happen, especially as the audience can interpret to some extent (Until it’s explicitly laid out a few episodes later).

I have an unpopular opinion among my fellow Emma fans. That is, I feel like she’s a character that doesn’t necessarily need a ton of backstory. That’s because episodes like these are so impactful for the exact reason that they're rarities. when someone lets Emma down in just one flashback, we understand how important that moment was to Emma and how it shaped that one facet of her personality so specifically. well, I feel like had they had too many Emma flashbacks, they wouldn’t have been as effective because they would have been akin to laying on a bed of nails: An overabundance of sob stories just makes one feel exhausted more than sympathetic and so much more of Emma’s depth is revealed from the parts of her that are not spoonfed, such as her one off lines about the effects of her lonely upbringing. Present I’ll go over this soon, but trust is a big theme of this episode, and Emma’s trust for Killian in the present is framed to be at a contrast with her trust for Neal in the past. And to a degree and not a small one, that does come through. There are a lot of subtle moments that show growth (Killian being able to read Emma, Emma confessing that she was in love once, Emma’s concern for Killian’s wellbeing). However, I feel like for in order for Emma’s betrayal at the end to make more sense as a move that frustrates but is still understandable, they should’ve shown a bit more growth in Emma’s trust for Killian. As it stands, their interactions feel like they more or less reset at the start of every new scene between them. Emma makes her distrust for Killian clear, the two of them do something (Climbing, knocking out Anton, exploring Anton’s castle), one of them gets in physical danger or something is otherwise exposed, and 1% of trust is added. I really feel like there should’ve been a bit more warmth or more obvious progress because not only on its own, but especially when compared to Emma and Neal’s story, it’s not as effective when Emma locks him up because I can’t help but feel like that’s something she probably would’ve done at the end of “The Doctor” too. What changed and does she regret her choice? It doesn’t seem to be the case because there’s not much within the segment itself to compare the moment to.

On a more positive note, in addition to just Killian’s interactions with Emma, we get a lot of insight into his character on his own. For instance, Killian, despite working for Cora, doesn’t trust her, adding to the later-on emphasized concern for self preservation. We also see the first of Killian’s signature impatience. It’s weird. After over 100 years in Neverland, Killian has definitely shown how patient he can be, but as his revenge gets closer, practically insight, we see how that patience just drops to nothing. One could conceivably even call that a fault in his character, but I’d argue against that given how we've also seen later on instances where Killian has had no patience with his revenge right in front of him, so it does make sense. It's also very interesting parallel to Rumple, who in later episodes is shown to experience similar behavior. All Encompassing The issue and theme of trust (Or rather, destroyed trust) is prevalent through the two main segments. In the past, Neal betrayed Emma’s trust, and taking from that experience, Emma betrays Killian’s trust (And to a smaller extent, Snow’s trust through not telling her about her favor from Mulan). This episode also has a really nifty parallel to its own predecessors. Now, in a lot of episodes of season 2 thus far, we’ve see characters internalizing a bad lesson in the past, but rejecting it (mostly) in the present (Rumple being more cooperative with Belle’s needs, Regina refusing to inflict the same pain on Henry that Cora inflicted on her, and Regina being able to let go of Daniel). However, for the first time this season, we see a character who internalized that lesson in the past (protect yourself because you don't know when someone will betray you, even if you trust them), but actually refused to move on from it in the present. Emma, despite seeing and even acknowledging that she does to a large extent trusts Killian, still leaves him cuffed atop the beanstalk (“I can’t take a chance that I’m wrong about you.” Insights - Stream of Consciousness -I love Killian in his robes! He just looks so snuggly, even more so than usual! -”Bad form” makes what I believe is its first appearance! -Killian, watch that! That’s your soon-to-be mother-in-law talking! -I like how the mythology of the giants factors into the present story. Keeping in tune with one of the secondary themes of the episode -- that things are never what they seem -- the giant’s were described as brutes (As per Killian’s story), they were (As we later learn) more like isolationists and he war of giants and men was flipped from the known storyline. Watching this episode with the knowledge from “Tiny” already in mind makes all the scenes where the giant’s history is described so gruesome. -Has anyone ever written a fic where Cora actually does accompany Killian up the beanstalk? -”Emma Swan. Good name.” Am I the only one to connect this to Rumple’s “Emma. What a lovely name” line? -I know Neal gets a lot of flack for the “women” line, but I’m not entirely convinced that that was what he was going for. Instead, I feel like he’s playing to the cop’s sexism. I feel this way both because of the really over-the-top-but-in-a-way-that-one-can-tell-it’s-fake weasel-y smile he gives the cop and the “we” he says regarding his and Emma’s escape once the cop goes away. -”You’re not gonna argue with me?” “Would it do you any good?” I like that subtle display of Emma and Snow’s growing bond! -”Well, you never forget your first.” Now I really want to know what Killian’s first beanstalk was like! -Does anyone know what an Apollo bar is? Like, I know that it’s a fake candy bar, but what’s inside? -Random dude in the shop: Just yell “He’s stealing!” And why did you guys not chase after them?! -”Are you sure? Is this...what you really want?” MY POOR EMMA!!!! She’s been let down so many times! -I just realized that after the events of “Awake,” everyone in town had nightmares for months! How much you want to bet there was an Insomnia Club that was formed afterwards? XD -I like how Aurora’s grown to trust Snow so much given their rocky start! (Sleeping Snow, anyone?) -”It’s where the Final Battle was.” I know A&E had absolutely no knowledge as to the Season 6 finale, but I can’t help but snicker anyway. -”It’s rum, and a bloody waste of it.” I feel like this line would’ve worked better with that deleted scene from when they were climbing the giant’s beanstalk. -”Maybe I was once.” I find that this is such a good acknowledgment of trust that Emma now has in Killian. -How strong is Killian that he can get such a loud sound out of that simple pounding with a bone? -I love Anton’s costume! It’s so cuddly! -”I’m the worst human around!” I wonder how much Killian truly believes that. Like don’t get me wrong, Killian’s a baddie and a bad baddie, but does he consider himself worse than Rumple or was that line just part of the ruse? Because it’s Killian, I could honestly buy either. -Jack is so fucking extra. Who puts their own name on their sword?! -Emma just has the most beautiful hair ever! -I love seeing how much Emma’s willing to fight for her happiness when she knows she has it. As soon as Neal tells her he can’t go to Tallahassee, but instead needs to go to Canada, Emma’s all ready to go! -I sometimes forget just how Neal and Baelfire are the same person. It’s not like it’s executed badly or anything, but it’s such a change. -”You know your rights?” I’m not a cop by ANY means, but I’m pretty sure the cop has to actually say the rights (Correct me if I’m wrong). -”We do it side-by-side and fast.” Another line that shows Emma’s increasing trust for Killian! -”You gotta promise that you’ll be there for me.” “I promise.” LIAR! -”Money’s not what she needs.” August, she has roughly ten years left before she can break the curse AND she’s an ex-con. She might need that extra money! August, I’m not liking you in this episode! -How did August send Neal a postcard in his wooden form? -*Bites Anton to get freed* Emma, I don’t know what your dental plan (Or lack thereof) is, but stick with it! Also, more characters should bite to solve their problems! XD -Emma’s gotten so comfortable with a sword! -”You’re wrong.” [About all humans being killers] Emma, saying that while waving the sword isn’t helping your case. -”Now go before I change my mind.” Anton, you precious bean! You can see him trying and failing to be a badass! -”A jump from a beanstalk.” You’re one hell of a daredevil, Emma! Arcs - How are These Storylines Progressing? Emma and Snow getting back to Storybrooke - We get both half a means of a return journey as well as a future means of communication between the realms. Favorite Dynamic Emma and Anton - I honestly stuck this here because I figure I have talked (And will talk) about the other main dynamics, so why not go a touch more obscure?! So, what I like about Emma and Anton’s connection is something that connects her to both Neal and Killian, but gets its due emphasis here: Emma and Anton believe themselves to be alone and have learned not to trust others. And Emma, after understanding Anton’s story, position, and his victimization at the hands of those who bastardized his history, she shows him understanding and compassion, and Anton returns that. Writer We’ve once again got one new writer (Christine Boylan) and one old writer (Jane Espenson). It’s a pretty decent premiere! The past segment especially was fantastic, painting a story about Emma and Neal that was simple, but it worked for that reason. The present segment, well I have a bit more issues with it. I feel like there was this tug of war. they wanted to keep the characters consistent but also tell a story about trust and how Emma’s past ruined that growing trust, and while it’s possible to do that, the journey needed more room for more overt growth. Now, I like the more subtle shows of growing trust (As I said before, confessions of love from the past and concern for each other), but it also felt like those subtle bits didn’t really move Emma and Killian anywhere meaningful, making the climactic moment fall flat, and that’s frustrating because I can't help it feel like this was easily fixable. Why couldn’t Emma and Killian have a moment where they were talking a bit more comfortably, perhaps right before the scene before Anton re-enters the castle, and Killian says something that echoes something Neal said to her in the past segment (Think like when Felix called Calhoun a “dynamite gal” in Wreck It Ralph)? It would’ve contributed more to the crossroad that Emma found herself at the end of the episode and would make her decision (Again) more understandable for as frustrating as it is. Rating 7/10. I really hate giving this episode this score. It’s an okay score for an okay episode, but after the first five episodes of the season scored 10’s or Golden Apples, it feels worse than it actually is to have to put that number down. I loved this walk through of Emma’s experiences with trust. It paints this really vivid image of the types of disappointments that Emma has seen through her lifetime of abandonment, but gave a good deal of nuance and understanding to Neal, someone who ordinarily may have been just straight up villainized. I took points because I felt that there could’ve been just a bit stronger of a growing trust between Killian and Emma. I felt it, but to be a parallel to what Neal and Emma had, I just wish it was stronger because it really just feels like Emma did exactly what she would’ve done to Killian in the previous episode. I want to see her journey and previous experiences shape her actions and while I felt like it was done okay, it was still too weak to contribute to what should’ve been a more tragic payoff. Flip My Ship - Home of All Things “Shippy Goodness” Captain Swan - “Don’t think I’m taking my eyes off you for a second.” “I’d despair if you did.” Those two lines are just the best! Everything one would want from chemistry to animosity is there and it’s just fantastic! The same goes for the famous “I love a challenge line!” Also, in two weird CS/SF parallels, (1) Neal calls he and Emma a we, whereas Emma calls she and Killian “we,” and (2), Neal calls their escape “home” to Emma in the past and Emma does the same with Killian in the present. Also also, I just genuinely love the way Emma worries for Killian after the giant falls, shouting “Hook” as loud as she can. Also, also, also, “Everything we need is right in front of us.” Note how the two of them were looking at each other. Swan Fire - I like how in Emma and Neal’s first scene, Emma raises an impressed eyebrow to Neal as he’s lying to the cop. It’s such a sign that she’d found a kindred spirit! It’s also reinforced when Emma smiles at Neal’s second request for drinks. I like how Neal upgrades their lied about relationship from “girlfriend” to “wife,” subtly signifying how their relationship has truly grown. Also, “this little guy saved us!” I know that was totally not intended to be about Henry necesaarily, but fuck it, I’mma imagine it! Also, the kiss afterwards was adorable as all hell! As was the conversation in the hotel room, and it makes their tragic downfall all the more tragic! Also, there’s a Snowing parallel I just noticed! In the hotel scene in the flashback, Emma talks about how dreamcatchers (Which is kind of her thing with Neal) kept the bad dreams away. Meanwhile, Charming used a candle (Fire = Balefire) to ward the nightmares off from Snow. Also also, “what you want” seems to be a bit of a line between them, akin to “I will always find you” and “I’m a survivor,” said twice by Emma -- once to confirm and again to reaffirm her dedication to Neal! Finally, I just love how Neal initially stands up to August on Emma’s behalf when he says he’s her guardian angel. ()()()()()()()()() Thank you for reading! And to the fine folks at @watchingfairytales to putting this project together and helping me keep the lights on!

Next time, let’s hang out with some moon kids! Season 2 Tally (57/220) Writer Tally for Season 2: Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis: (20/60) Jane Espenson (17/50) Andrew Chambliss and Ian Goldberg (10/50) David Goodman (10/30) Robert Hull (10/30) Christine Boylan (7/30)

Operation Rewatch Archives

#ouat #once upon a time #watching fairytales #ouat 2x06 #ouat rewatch #jenna watches ouat #ships mentioned #swan fire #Captain Swan

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silver-stargazing · 7 years

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Storytime with Joel and The Bots

My submission for @aggressivelyarospec AggressivelyArospecWeek. I wrote about Joel Robinson from Mystery Science Theater 3000, who I headcanon as aro/ace and also as someone who, at one point in his life, wanted children of his own.

Please note that this is entirely a headcanon and that you are more than welcome to have a different headcanon from mine. Draw a picture, write a song, compose an awesome play, make a goofy post, whatever it is that helps you express your important headcanons! I’d honestly love to see more headcanons about these wonderful characters!

And for context: this takes place a few days after Women of the Prehistoric Planet, so this would be very early in the show’s run and only a few months into Joel’s captivity. The only thing you need to know is that they had a couch briefly on the bridge.

AO3

Word Count: 2572

“C’mon, Joel! Hurry up!”

From the Satellite’s kitchen, a slightly muffled voice responded.

“One more minute, Crow! My hot chocolate’s almost done.”

“How long does it take to make one cup of Swiss Miss?” Tom Servo shot back. “It’s like you’ve been in there for hours. Did you fall into the stove again? Do we need to call LifeAlert?”

“You keep up with that sass, Tom, and there’ll be no RAM chips for any of you guys. Now I said a minute and I meant it.”

The Bots both groused for a moment. Then the bridge of the Satellite of Love fell into a restless silence as its robotic crew waited impatiently on their big comfortable couch.

The past few days had really tested the patience of the Satellite’s crew, both robots and human alike.

They’d had to sit through a particularly dreadful film called Women of the Prehistoric Planet and deal with a doomsday device that did nothing but aggravate them even further. Then, once the experiment was finally over, they ended up flying through a nasty solar storm that resulted in a brief black-out, shorting out many of the Satellite’s essential functions including the heating.

According to Gypsy’s calculations, the Satellite would return to normal after a few days of system updates and reboots. Until then, though, no heat.

To compensate for the coldness, warm blankets and pillows had been dragged out of every nook and cranny and stockpiled onto the bridge. The Bots had their built-in heaters, but the chill of the Satellite mixed with the general frigid coldness of space was more than enough to get everyone to bundle up. Crow and Tom were wrapped up tightly with several multi-color afghans, Gypsy had a bright pink shawl tied up around her head and body, and even Cambot had on a little winter hat made from spare fabric.

Joel Robinson, the sole human occupant of the SOL, walked into the room holding a small stack of books and his coffee mug. He looked to all the world like he’d just come out of a blizzard. He had three different layers of Gizmonics sweaters on over his regular jumpsuit plus a cozy wool jacket. His hands were covered in several gloves, each with a built-in heating unit of his own design. His face was barely recognizable under the length of scarf covering it, but from the warm crinkle lines around his eyes, the Bots could tell that he was actually enjoying the change in climate.

“Peculiar weather we’re having for June, huh?” he joked. “Reminds me of those summer days back in Minneapolis.”

He placed the pile of books down in between Tom and Crow and set off to the far opposite of the room where Cambot lay nestled on a pillow.

“Sure you don’t want to join us, little guy?” asked Joel softly while adjusting the bot’s tiny hat.

The bot narrowed his lens and nestled even deeper, indicating he was comfortable where he was currently.

Joel nodded and gave Cambot a little pat on the head before returning to the couch. The little bot had always been a bit more standoffish by nature, anyway. Always happy to simply be around his family but not directly interact with anyone. Joel could understand that.

Grabbing a heap of blankets, Joel settled himself neatly between Tom and Crow on the couch. He cradled his hot coco in his gloved hands, cherishing the taste of chocolate and appreciating the warmth. It was so warm, in fact, that it was almost enough to put someone to-

“Hey, don’t go to sleep yet!” Tom called out, jerking Joel straight out of his daze.

“Yeah, remember?” said Crow, nudging the pile of books with a small golden claw. “Stories?”

“Stories!” Gypsy exclaimed excitedly.

Storytime was a relatively new tradition on the Satellite of Love. A week ago, when Joel first found the couch in the loading bay, he also came across an old box full of fairy tale and folk lore books. Why they were there in the first place, he never knew why (then again, he’d learned by now to stop asking too many questions when it came to the Satellite anyway).

Originally, he read the stories to test the Bots’ comprehension skills and experiment with how much information they could retain. Overtime, though, storytime turned into less of a lab test and more of a nightly gathering for the residents of the Satellite to take a break. To hear stories that were designed to lift their spirits up rather than break them down. Sure, their evil overlords down in Deep 13 would probably take away both the stories and the couch as it would mess with their data, but for now, everyone on board appreciated their time spent together.

“Well, all right. We’ve got storytime and then a letter from Earth to read after that.” He began to flip through the stack of books. “Which story should we read tonight? We’ve got Little Red Riding Hood, Jack and the Beanstalk, Pinocchio-“

Tom shuddered.

“Never again with that one. Way to traumatize me away from show biz, story.”

“Not me!” said Crow enthusiastically. “Hollywood ain’t seen nothing ‘till they sees the likes of Crow T. Robot! I’ll be up there with the legends. Steven Spielberg, Billy Wilder, Francis Ford Coppola…”

“Yeah, more like Ed Wood, Coleman Francis, and Sandy Frank,” muttered Servo.

“Hey!” Crow squawked indignantly.

“Girl!” croaked Gypsy, distracting everyone from the brewing fight between Crow and Tom. The purple robot pointed her head in the direction of the book stack.

“Do you want us to read a story about a girl, Gypsy?” asked Joel, proud of her for taking the initiative in choosing a book. She was usually so shy and introverted around the rest of the Crew during their nightly storytime.

She nodded her head vigorously. Both Tom and Crow groaned.

“A girl book? Aww Joel? Do we have to?”

“Hey, you should have said something before Gypsy. Besides, I happen to recall that you, Mr. Tom, have chosen the last three stories in a row.”

Servo sighed.

“Alright, we can give Gypsy’s story a try.”

They silently rummaged through the story books, occasionally showing a book to Gypsy only for her to reject each offering.

Crow waved a book in front of Joel’s face.

“Ha-ha. Hey! She looks just like how you used to look!”

On the cover was a young woman with impossibly long blonde hair. Rapunzel.

“Very funny, Mr. Smart Guy,” replied Joel dryly. His right hand ghosted over where his old hair length used to be. That extra hair probably would have helped to keep him a little bit warmer, he lamented.

“What do you think about this one, Gyps?” asked Crow, holding the book up for Gypsy. “She’s got really long hair just like you’ve got a really long coil.”

“Yeah! Yeah!” she responded, nodding her head eagerly.

Crow passed the picture book off to Joel, who then held the book up for Cambot to see.

“You all right with Rapunzel, Cambot?”

The bot’s lens widened and his whole form whirred with excitement. Joel smiled at the quirky response.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

He quickly drained the remaining dregs of his hot chocolate and set the mug aside.

Cracking open the book, he gave a dignified “Hem” and began:

“Once upon a time in a far-off kingdom…”

And so, Joel recounted the tale of the maiden Rapunzel, of the evil witch who imprisoned the young girl in a tower, and of Rapunzel’s noble prince. He paused occasionally to address any questions and allow for riffing from his captivated audience (that was, after all, what the Bots were originally designed for. To make jokes at stories no matter how good or bad they were. Joel found no point in discouraging them from what they were built to do).

“And Rapunzel and her Prince rode off to the Prince’s kingdom where they lived, happily married and with several wonderful children, for many long and loving years. The End. So, what did you all think of the story?”

“Yay!” exclaimed Gypsy, enthused by the story’s happy ending. Cambot similarly buzzed with delight.

“Thought the second act could’ve been stronger. And that ending? Is it believable in that era that a peasant would marry into nobility? The whole kingdom would be thrown apart by scandal! It would be like Wallis Simpson and King Edward all over again!” Tom argued before adding hesitantly “It was nice that the Prince got his eyesight back, though.”

Crow, meanwhile, seemed to have his focus elsewhere entirely, his ping pong eyes darting everywhere in concentration.

“Crow, buddy, what’d you think of Rapunzel?”

“Wait a second…Joel!” Crow finally cried out. “Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel! Remember how I said you looked like the lady?”

“Yeah, I remember. And I should really have a talk with you about-”

“Oh, I was joking then, but Joel! What if you did grow out your hair long enough so that it could reach Earth? We’d be saved!”

The human could only chuckle at the Bot’s suggestion.

“I don’t know if that would work too well,” was all he could respond before laughing again.

“What? Why not?! We’re all basically stuck in a tower like Rapunzel anyway. Let your hair grow out, toss it out the airlock and wait for a wayfaring prince to come and rescue us! C’mon, it’s foolproof!”

“Crow, space and human hair do not work-”

“Oh yeah, and then maybe you and the prince could get married and we could all live in a castle!” Servo chimed in. Joel could honestly not tell whether Tom was being serious or not. “Get ourselves some servants, a few butlers, a swimming pool, the whole nine yards!”

“Marriage? Now that’s the most far-fetched thing you guys have said yet!” snorted Joel, before realizing what he had just said.

He awkwardly coughed and gave an outwardly light laugh. Scratching the back of his head, he hoped for something, anything to change the subject. He really didn’t feel ready to have this conversation yet (if ever).

“What’s so odd about you and marriage, Joel?” Tom inquired innocently.

“Yeah, are you already married or something?” came the follow-up question from Crow.

“Wife?” asked Gypsy.

“No, not married. It’s just, I’ve never considered getting married before. Well, actually…at all. Just never been for me, I guess.”

“How do ya’ figure?” said Crow.

Joel opened his mouth, paused and closed it again, considering what to say next.

To him, it had always been so simple. He had long accepted that he would rather be in a lab cooking up a new gadget or planning his next invention than pursuing any sort of romantic relationship. Romance was about as appealing to him as an arsenic and hamdinger sandwich.

But how do you explain that lack of attraction? The Bots only had a scant understanding of human behavior, most of which came from awful B-movies. Joel would have to choose his words carefully.

“It’s like…some folks have lives and stories a lot like Rapunzel and her Prince,” he finally said. “They find someone who they deeply love all romantic like and they hopefully live happily ever after together. But that’s not everyone’s story.”

“Some folks, myself included, have stories more like…more like Geppetto.”

“What? The old geezer from Pinocchio?” Crow responded incredulously.

“Yeah, does that mean we’re going to get a cricket infestation and Crow’s beak is going to grow longer than it already is?” joked Tom.

“No no. Just that Geppetto is so full of love but not in the same way as Rapunzel is for her Prince. He has more of this wonderful platonic love. A love for his craft. A love for life,” Joel reached over to pat Gypsy on the head. “A love for his creations.”

“Aww,” she said.

“I think the word they were using for that back on Earth was ‘aromantic’.”

“Well, I always thought you smelled lovely,” said Tom.

Joel smiled at the word-play.

“That’s ‘aromatic’, you goof. And I don’t remember installing any smell sensors in you, either.”

“Wouldn’t be opposed to an upgrade,” Tom quickly replied. “You know, my vocal box still keeps glitching on me from time-to-time.”

“I’ll see what parts I can scavenge to build you a new voice box. Might take a while but we’ll fix it.”

Joel paused and looked upwards.

“Hey, Magic Voice. How are we doing with those system updates? Any estimates?”

“Five more hours, Joel,” chimed a light mechanical but still recognizably female voice over the Satellite’s intercom.

He gave a weary sigh.

“Thanks. Looks like I’ll have to make some actual coffee this time. It’s going to be a long night.” He shifted, getting ready to stand up. “Maybe I’ll sniff out some RAM chips while I’m in the kitchen. Gypsy, honey, you want to help me search for some?”

“But-but Joel?” Crow finally said, still processing what Joel just told them. “If we can’t marry you off, how are we going to convince a wandering prince to save us?”

Joel could hear the worry in the golden bot’s voice. He placed a gloved hand on Crow’s shoulder.

“We don’t need any Prince to save us. Crow, you just came up with an escape plan in minutes! Why would we need a stuffy old prince to get us out when we’ve got a couple of expert jailbreakers right here? We’re all smart enough to get home safely together.”

“Well…” Crow started, reconsidering his plan. “We could always modify the plan so that I climb down your hair to Earth.”

“There we go!”

“Yeah! And then, in a thrilling conclusion to our epic odyssey, I’ll lead an expert commando squadron of elite ninja warriors to infiltrate and bring down Deep 13, getting you all back to Earth! I should really check to make sure my ninja contacts are all up to date…”

“Give me an outline of the plan in the morning and I’ll see what I can do for you, buddy” said Joel, getting ready to return to the kitchen. He stopped, suddenly remembering the letter in his jacket pocket.

“I almost forgot, the Mads sent us a letter before the black-out earlier. There’s not going to be an experiment this week until they get the projector fixed but we can still read it.”

“Who’s it from, Joel?” asked Tom.

“From a Mr....Isaac Asimov? From Minnesota, Earth?” Joel looked at the address then back at the Bots. “You guys didn’t have anything to do with this, did you?”

They all shook their heads, even Cambot. The human still suspected otherwise.

Joel opened the letter and smiled wider than he had in months.

It was a crayon drawing of a red jump-suited person being hugged by a red gumball machine, a golden bowling ball pin, a purple snake, and a camera on a wire.

The SOL crew.

Joel felt a tear leak from his eye. Years back on Earth spent in misery, coming to terms with the fact he’d never have a family like he’d often wished for. All that felt immediately shut down by this letter

Here was his family all along, sticking it out together on a satellite orbiting the Earth. An unconventional family? Sure, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

The letter simply read:

“HAPPY FATHER’S DAY JOEL ROBINSON!”

Joel’s honestly really important to me in regards to headcanoning him as aro/ace. Here’s a cool and relaxed man who I see as aromantic who has a family and is a wonderful parent to his kids. As an aro/ace person who might like to have kids of her own one day (maybe), it’s kind of reassuring to know that Aromantics can make for great parents.

This is also actually my very first fanfiction and probably my first time writing creative fiction since I was 14 (discounting any songs that I’ve written as writing those feels like a completely different experience). So I apologize if the characters seem OOC. Never was the best with dialogue, so it was probably a poor decision to have my first fic be comprised largely of dialogue...

#aggressivelyarospecweek #mst3k #mystery science theater 3000 #joel robinson #aromantic #mst3k fanfic #also a late father's day fic for joel. Happy Father's Day Robot Dad!#adorable space robot family #sol crew #crow t robot #tom servo #gypsy #cambot #magic voice #fanfic #stargazer writes? maybe?#aro headcanons #stargazer writes

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imogenbennettblogsdp · 4 years

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Moving image and Semiotics - Session 4

Todays session was focused on the moving image and semiotics within it, at first the word semiotic scares me, mostly because it is a word I am not familiar with. so how do we conquar that issue? well we learn the word.

Semiotics (noun) - the study of signs and symbols and their use or interpretation.

so what does that mean? well I think it means, what the viewer takes away from the image (eg, what they think the message is). I did some digging on the web and found this website (which pretty much confirms what I suspected the word means). “the relationship between a sign, an object, and a meaning. The sign represents the object, or referent, in the mind of an interpreter. “Interpretant” refers to a sign that serves as the representation of an object.”

Moving on from that, I was presented with this image:

instantly I think of Authority and western cowboys, because the American police force wear badges and they are massively represented in film and tv (more than UK police) you will probably recognise this phrase “hand in your gun and badge” for police getting fired more than you'll recognise “your fired fellow policeman, hand in your baton”. (well I do anyway). and cowboys are from America which leads me to think of America when I see this image.

I found this little task interesting, it made me notice how much thought I can generate from looking at one image. and that the power of what films can do as well and how I can study them. This links to Metonymic meaning (a psychological approach to studying screen).

Synecdoche (another big scary word) which is a figure of speech that relates to a whole thing (eg, If I was to say “gimme a slice” you would auto-magically think of pizza, and would hopefully give me that slice) and this is important for film. (as described in the slide) we can use it to determine on screen characters, I use this in “Joker”(2019,Philips)

as when he has the faceprint on we can say its a mask/ trying to make people happy - using semiotics that what we see when we see clowns

From this image alone I can see that joker is wearing clown makeup which makes me think that his character is using a mask to hide who he really is and to put a ‘face’ on that he feels other people will like, this gives me the feeling that his traits are venerable and sad. He is using Clown makeup to make people laugh/ happy, using Semiotics its what we relate Clowns to (or use to). Clowns are made to make people laugh and happy which is what joker is portraying. (if I was to go deeper into this I would relate laughter to madness and so forth but this isn't an essay... although I did enjoy this little break down).

This is all pretty similar to what I explored in session (blog) 3. connotation and denotation with looking at images and exploring the messages behind them, only difference is in this session i’m looking at moving images. (I did touch on semiotics but it wasn't my main focus of that blog - hence why I go into more detail in this one).

Stuart Hall & Encoding and Decoding. This is slightly related to Synecdoche and semiotics in terms of interpretation but this has a twist, it's more of an active spectatorship. My summary - when your presented with messages from tv or film you will interpret it depending on your experiences/ background etc, its quite interesting as its a more risky approach to decoding. Risky as in someone can take total offence in something or they might not react to it at all. Risky.

Then I was shown a video Close Reading - Jennine Lanouette’s Visuals and Action on an analysis of a scene from ‘Mad Max’. I paid a lot of attention to this video essay and found it really helpful to see the theories I've been looking at in action. (I like to analyse scenes/ films and she had some really good points). I like her decoding of the bad guy:

She touched on the fact that the viewer sees an dirty/ intimidating car with a skull mounted on the front and those images register in our unconscious and we know the car is not friendly. (she plays on the viewers interpretation) and inside we see a man whose face is covered with a mask and sunglasses - which we instantly don't trust as we cannot see his eyes (my words - which is the window to the souls and his is blocked... prompting the idea ‘does he have a soul?’) I liked her technique of watching the scene first all the way than going in detail through each frame/shot looking at each detail (which is good at gathering detail but thinking of it that can be very time consuming, so perhaps every other shot).

This leads me to my next task... Decoding in groups. We were given scenes from different films. Okay so in the class I did the ‘Phoney’ scene from Grease but I didn't really enjoy it personally (not my type of film, which I know is very unproductive and silly as all film analysis is analysis. looking back I wish I gave it more of a chance but I couldn't decode much). So for my analysis here I am going to talk about ‘Garden party’ scene from Get Out. as I saw a lot of potential in this film and picked out quite a bit.

Now for this analysis I will be giving away spoilers... as I have already watch this film (and loved it) so to reference Stuart Hall theory my interpretation will be different as from experience I know the plots.

starting off we see Chris (protagonist) and his girlfriend introducing him to a couple, Rose is wearing red which represents danger whereas it contrasts with Chris’s blue (blue = calm like water) shirt. so on the first bat we register that there is some type of danger emitted from rose, making us not fully trust her.

The couple that Rose and Chris talk to are ironically wearing black which makes us think of a funeral attire, relating to death. but what has died? is it psychical or mentally? or are they simply dressing for the future?. and with my dramatic irony knowledge the “black is in fashion” line the man says is quite cynical as these people will take the bodies of the people who are of different colour to them. so saying that a body is in fashion makes me not trust these characters and also dislike them too.

Chris holding this camera makes me think of him as an observant character, he is constantly taking stuff and ‘has a good eye’, from my knowledge he ‘may’ be the one to escape (no spoiler there). But notice how everyone else is watching him, like he is a piece of art... or more relatable to the situation, a piece of meat (or a pair of trainers) it makes the viewer uncomfortable and almost want to shout to Chris “Its behind you!!” (from personal experience it won't make a difference, he can't hear us). The background is also interesting, the dense forest makes us feel like we're trapped and isolated “middle of nowhere” springs to mind. (the lady in the back is also wearing red to represent danger).

I will also like to talk about this interaction “Good to see another brother around here” I find this scene to be most intriguing when you have seen the film, only because it adds to the dramatic irony of the scene. Andre (I had to research his name as the woman doesn't introduce him, which is interesting in itself to make me think she doesn't see him as a person more of an accessory, referencing back to the line “black is in fashion”) his body language is off, he is acting like an old man (no offence to old men) from being slightly hunched over and the way he holds his drink, His costume design also points me in that direction of old man (again no offence) the sun hat to blazer with a sandy colour. it is a big contrast to Chris who supposedly is around his age (psychically).

I found this task interesting, its nice to dive into a scene and focus on detail and using decoding to... decode it. This experience was different to how it was in class where I was working in a team which is a 50/50 for me as I didn't have the freedom to dive deep and develop my ideas as much as I did right now, alone. And in that particular team discussion we weren't really productive, I wanted to focus on the task but I could sense that wasn't the same for the rest of the team. Whereas it can be productive, you see things you didn't see before, and relating to the Stuart Hall theory, they would have different experiences to me which means a variation.

Next task in teams we looked at fairytale writing, Going against type and changing an already well known character/story. Being the classic teenagers we chose to focus on Jack in the beanstalk but instead of beans...its drugs. (so “jack and the drugs” has more of a ring to it if you ask me. Part one of the task was to think of the details, location - Bristol (because Bristol is apparently the capital city of cocaine, and myself being from Bristol I don't agree with this but I find it funny to take the mick out of where I live...who doesn't) but I found this fun and essentially the best part of story witting. setting up the scene or painting the canvas, picking out the legos before you use them.

Then as a group started to write the story using the Pixar prompt story structure by Ken Adams.

it is a bit messy but to admit to you we were having a little bit too fun with it and focused a little too hard on task one. But reflecting on this if I did this task alone I most likely would of struggled to think of what to do as I do find it difficult to pin an idea down and stick to it whereas in the team I had the opinions and help from my team to focus and develop an single idea. I also had fun doing this which isn't it the whole point? to have fun and enjoy it.

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rugbyquit5-blog · 5 years

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On this week’s The Deuce, it’s great to know a lot… and a little bit not

Photo: Paul Schiraldi (HBO)

In 1986, Broadway songwriting legend Stephen Sondheim and dramatist James Lapine turned Bruno Bettelheim’s analytical psychology book The Uses Of Enchantment: The Meaning And Importance Of Fairy Tales into the playful musical Into The Woods, which turned the well-known stories of Little Red Riding Hood, Rapunzel, Cinderella, and Jack & The Beanstalk into a catchy and clever comment on adventure, desire, and parenting. The show won multiple Tonys, has been revived many times, was made into a hit movie, and remains a regional theater staple. It’s a remarkable example of artists taking unlikely source material—a book of academic cultural criticism—and turning into something the masses can enjoy.

And if The Deuce is to be believed, Eileen “Candy” Merrell had the idea first.

This is something I love about The Deuce: The characters are smart, but not unbelievably smart. Eileen’s bright enough to know that she can use her power in the smut industry to make a real movie, with a story and themes in between the screwing. And she’s intuitive enough to sense that a fairy tale like Little Red Riding Hood is a great vehicle for what she’s always tried to do with her porn: to reveal what the characters are actually feeling, and to help explain and even condone our common sexual needs. But she’s not well-educated or well-trained enough to put all that onto paper, into a film script; and this isn’t the kind of show that’s suddenly going to turn her into someone she’s not.

Harvey, on the other hand, is well-educated, and never misses a chance to prove it—primarily so he can insist that all that intellectual hoo-hah is silly. He patiently listens to Eileen’s pitches, because he has a lot of affection for her as a person, and because she delivers the goods when it comes to staging and filming genuinely erotic scenes. But he also thinks it’s a waste of money to buy special outdoor lighting and fancy costumes when all his customers really care about is the sex. “A little quaint for a fuck film,” he sighs.

Harvey’s the one who casually name-drops Bettelheim, just to clarify for Eileen that he knows what she’s trying to do, and that it’s probably not going to be worth his or her time. She though takes that cue to go buy a copy of The Uses Of Enchantment, and then to hire an actual writer to turn her notebook full of sketches and ideas into a real screenplay. Her main instruction: “I want to clear out all the quaint shit.” She’ll show Harvey.

This week’s The Deuce—credited to director Uta Briesewitz and writer Anya Epstein—is called “What Big Ideas,” for obvious reasons. It’s the line Harvey says mockingly to Eileen, in the voice of the Big Bad Wolf (“What big ideas you have!”). It also describes just about every plot-line in the episode.

For example, both Larry and C.C. have begun looking for ways to move beyond pimping—the former by becoming an actor, the latter by pushing himself as a creative consultant on Lori’s movies. Larry seems to be doing better. He struggles with his lines (perhaps because, as Darlene presumes, he can’t read); and he’s more interested in playing smiling, friendly types than the muscular, well-endowed menaces that the industry prefers for guys like him. But given a chance by Candy to improvise his way through a scenario where he plays a dangerous prisoner, he delivers a genuinely moving extemporaneous speech about how his character landed in jail, and how he feels about it.

As for C.C., he actually makes a good suggestion to Lori’s director, saying he should ditch his leering asthmatic cameraman and let the actor on the receiving end of Lori’s blowjob shoot the scene himself, POV-style. He’s also been trying to sell his own original idea for a porno: The Life And Times Of A Pimp.

All of this is highly embarrassing to Lori, who thinks C.C. should just collect his money—which keeps pouring in, more and more—and “shut the fuck up.” She even strikes a secret deal with a casting agent, to find her jobs C.C. won’t be involved in, but that he’ll get paid for anyway. What neither Lori nor the agent understand though is that C.C., like Larry, has never been good at just sitting back and collecting cash. These pimps want to run their girls. It’s a point of pride.

What’s especially poignant about all this—and has been since this series began—is that everyone’s dreams are ultimately so limited. Eileen, Larry, C.C.… They all sense, mostly rightly, that they have more to give to the world. But they’ve confined their vision to whatever they’re allowed to accomplish in the medium of pornography, where the customers aren’t exactly demanding brilliance.

Even Paul, who’s executing his plan to build a beautiful new gay bar in the Village, is facing skepticism from his primary investor, Vincent, who’s not sure it’s prudent to spend a lot of money on the decor of a place where guys are mainly planning to sneak off into a dark corner. How nice of a joint does it need to be?

Photo: Paul Schiraldi (HBO)

What we can see though—and the characters can’t—is that times are changing in Times Square, faster than anyone thinks. Detective Alston has his doubts that Ed Koch’s team can do anything about the peep shows, streetwalkers, and massage parlors, especially with every corrupt cop from every surrounding precinct jumping aboard the special task force’s “overtime express.” (“If it was that easy, the Deuce wouldn’t be here,” he grumbles at Koch’s aide Gene Goldman.) But factors beyond Alston’s imagination may soon accomplish what no captain, chief, commissioner, or mayor has ever been able to.

The most pressing concern: The mafia’s multi-family squabble over their Times Square turf is starting to turn deadly. Bobby’s parlor burns down, killing an employee everyone only knew as “Kitty.” (Dorothy actually tracks down the dead masseuse’s family, and learns that her real name was Stephanie, and that she was 15 years old when Bobby hired her… making his indignation last week about competing parlors hiring underage girls all the more hypocritical.) There’s no proof yet that the fire was arson, and certainly no proof of who’s responsible. Nevertheless, one of Rudy Pipilo’s soldiers shoots a rival dead, right in the street (while he’s eating pizza, no less!). The mob is used to being able to operate at will in the Deuce. But even policemen on the take can’t shrug off a rising death toll.

And then there’s this: At The Hi-Hat, Abby hosts an art-show by a photographer named Viv (Adelind Horan), who flirts with Vincent. As far as The Deuce’s main storylines are concerned, these scenes matter because they show a small but solid wedge being driven between Abby and Vincent. But Viv’s actual work matters too, as part of the show’s larger design. She takes pictures that “bring out the humanity of the marginalized,” turning the denizens of the Deuce into high art.

Viv’s part of a coming wave of photographers, painters, poets, and musicians, who are taking advantage of the cheap rent in a crumbling New York, and are about to revive the city as an intellectual and cultural mecca—the kind of place where, in less than a decade, Into The Woods can be a hit.

Stray observations

Remember last week, when I said Frankie was one lucky so-and-so for winning a dry cleaning business in a poker game, right when the mob was about to muscle him out? Yeah, scratch that. The handful of Frankie scenes this week show him scrambling to keep up with demanding dry cleaning customers, and generally looking miserable. The lone exception is when he watches his wife strip. When she storms off the stage because some bozo wants a little extra for his tip, Frankie gives her a genuinely sympathetic, hard-won look and says, “Customer ain’t always right.”

The brief vignette this week of Eileen back home with her son and mother doesn’t seem to serve much purpose at first. But maybe it sparks something in Eileen’s head to hear her teenager describe his crush on Julie from The Love Boat, before finding out he’s hiding an issue of Penthouse under his mattress. This is what she wants her Little Red Riding Hood movie to be about: innocence corrupted, secret lusts, and “the hunger and the terror and the risk.”

Source: https://tv.avclub.com/on-this-week-s-the-deuce-it-s-great-to-know-a-lot-and-1829425372

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